


Eagle Ridge

by incorrectbatfam



Series: Jondami Week 2021 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, JonDami Week (Super Sons), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: “I don’t see why I must partake in this excursion. I already have all the survival skills I need.”“This isn’t survival, D. This isfun.”~Jondami Week day 1: Domestic |Roommates| Adopting a pet
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Jondami Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186607
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89
Collections: Jondami Week 2021





	Eagle Ridge

“You got everything? Toothbrush? Bug spray? You know which numbers to call in case of an emergency?”

“Yes, Dad. Mom made me triple-check before we left.”

A large hand ruffled his hair. “Just making sure. Your first time away from home is a _big deal_ , Jonno.”

“It’s _one_ night,” Jon said as he waited for his turn to load his luggage. 

“Maybe now, but next thing I know you’ll be off to college and I’ll only see you at Christmas.”

Jon laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

Several feet away, also waiting for the other kids to load, Damian scoffed. “I don’t see why I must partake in this excursion. I already have all the survival skills I need.”

“This isn’t survival, D. This is _fun_.”

“What’s so fun about being devoured alive by mosquitos and sharing a washroom with a random person.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Jeez, I already feel sorry for your bunkmate.”

Bruce placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I know you’re not used to this kind of stuff, but try to keep an open mind. Who knows, maybe this experience will bring some new changes.”

“Sure, when Kent gets mauled by a bear.”

“Hey!”

The teachers loaded Damian’s suitcase and Jon’s duffel into the coach bus, and with that, the boys bid goodbye to their fathers and settled in the two remaining seats in the back. Damian immediately pulled out a tablet and typed in a crazy long passcode.

Jon lowered his voice. “Are you working on a _case_?”

“I might as well, seeing as this entire weekend will otherwise be wasted.”

“But we’re supposed to be _enjoying_ ourselves.”

“I am enjoying myself.”

He thought for a second before snapping his fingers. “I know! Let’s play ‘I Spy’.”

“What’s that?”

“Basically, one person describes something around them and the other has to guess what it is,” he said. “I’ll start. I spy something—”

“Phone.”

“See, you’re a natural! Your turn.”

Damian exhaled. “I spy an annoying half-alien forcing me to play his inane travel games.”

Jon pouted but left Damian alone. 

The sprawling suburban streets gave way to dense evergreens over the up-and-down rippling hills. Each mile, each minute passing on the rocking coach tugged his eyelids down like window blinds. The sun blanketed his skin so warm it was indistinguishable from the quilts his grandma knitted. 

He yawned and drew his knees closer.

When he opened his eyes, it was to Damian shaking him roughly. Jon felt a crick in his neck, probably because Damian’s shoulder wasn’t the ideal pillow. The bus was empty.

“ _Tt_. Typical.”

“Not my fault we had to get up early,” Jon said.

“I was awake by four-thirty for my daily run,” Damian said. “You should consider adding that to your schedule.”

Their bags were the last two remaining, accompanied by one of the chaperones next to a stone-carved sign reading, _“Eagle Ridge Nature Reserve and Education Center”_. The chaperone ushered them along a narrow mulch path, the lingering smell of rain uncovered with every step along the spongy surface. The class was gathered around an unlit fire pit as a teacher with a megaphone outlined the day’s activities. 

“Before we do anything else, we’d like to start with some icebreakers! Everybody get into groups of four or five and say a fun fact about yourself.”

Damian said, “I’ll pass.”

Jon grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him to the nearest pair. “Hey! Damian and I need a group. Can we join you?”

The other two kids exchanged apprehensive glances before one said, “Sure, I can start. My name’s Georgia and I spent the summer in Hawaii.”

“Lame,” Damian said, earning an elbow prod from Jon.

The other kid hesitated before saying, “I’m Mark, and I, uh, earned my first Boy Scout patch last week.”

“A pointless participation trophy you won’t be remembered for.”

The boy looked on the verge of tears. Jon quickly cut in. “I’m Jon and I can eat an entire cherry pie in twenty seconds. Your turn, Dami.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “My name is Damian and I think icebreakers are a waste of time.”

Jon sighed. 

This is gonna be a _long_ trip.

“I still don’t understand why I couldn’t bring Pennyworth’s cooking with me,” Damian said. “Even his frozen leftovers reign superior to…” He lifted a spinach leaf on his fork. “… _this_.”

“First, they banned food on the bus ‘cause of allergies,” Jon said, “and second, you gotta look on the bright side. It’s not that bad. I think the chicken nuggets are pretty good, actually.”

Damian took a bite out of his apple as he pushed the tray away. “It’s not my fault you lack standards. Didn't you say you ate a whole pie in thirty seconds?”

“ _Twenty_.”

“My point exactly. You are right at home with these nose-pickers.”

Before Jon could reply, the teachers called their attention to the bulletin board. “We have finalized the room assignments. Please check your cabin number here and pair up with your assigned roommate.”

Jon squeezed through the swelling balloon of excited children and searched for his name among the list’s tiny print. When he found it, he traced his finger along the line to his roommate—

_Oh no._

He pasted on a smile and turned to Damian. “Guess what, roomie?”

“This cannot get any worse,” Damian said.

The teacher turned on her megaphone once again. “One more thing: you and your roommate will work together on the next activity, which is a scavenger hunt along the hiking trail. Please drop off your bags at your cabin and meet back here in thirty minutes.”

“I stand corrected.”

“You and me both,” said Jon.

He had an eye roll prepared before they even entered the cabin. One glance was all it took for Damian to turn on his heel and march away. “I would rather sleep in Drake’s bedroom.”

Jon crossed his arms. “Tim’s bedroom isn’t an option, and we both know this is the best we got. At this point, I just wanna get this done with.”

“Fine,” Damian said, “but just so you know, I hate you.”

“Happy to hear it.”

Jon called the top bunk, to which Damian made a snarky remark about having fun sleeping with spiders. Damian made similar comments about the termite holes in the wall, the creaky floorboards, and the lone low-hanging lightbulb illuminating a space smaller than the Kents’ living room. And that wasn’t including the countless overdramatic complaints about the musty oak smell. Ignoring him, Jon refilled his water bottle at the fountain outside.

Damian leaned against the doorframe. “That thing’s so old it probably carries cholera.”

“I’m indestructible.”

“Not completely.”

“Well, whatever cholera is, it at least beats rooming with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Jon slipped the bottle into his backpack. “Can I ask you one favor?”

“No.”

He threw his hands up. Why does he bother?

“I was gonna ask you to pass me the bug spray.”

Damian tossed the can. “Didn’t you just say you’re indestructible?”

“Yeah, but bugs are still annoying.”

Damian muttered, “Like something else I can think of.”

Jon shot him one last glare before heading back to the main area.

Stupid trip. Stupid bunkmates. Stupid _Damian Wayne_ for sucking the life out of anything remotely joyful, like a vampire who wants to turn everyone to the dark side. 

That’s what he wants, isn’t it? To make every kid a miserable little Robin like him, built to eat, sleep, fight, and repeat, as though that life is more favorable than a normal, content childhood.

The teacher stopped Jon before he could go any further. “Where’s Damian?”

Jon looked over the pink scavenger hunt worksheet. “He’s not feeling it.”

“Oh, is he sick?” she asked. “I should go check on him.”

“No need, ma’am. I simply required extra time to prepare.” Damian took the sheet from Jon’s hands. “This shouldn’t be too difficult. Come, Kent.”

Jon jogged alongside Damian’s brisk pace. “What made you change your mind? This place finally growing on you?”

“I overheard somebody saying this activity can count for extra credit.” Damian drew a pencil from behind his ear that Jon hadn’t noticed before. “First on the list: a yellow meadowlark. Kent, can you listen for one?”

“I don’t know what they sound like.”

Damian sighed, brought his hand to his mouth, and emulated a bird call. “Like that.”

Jon cupped his hand around his ear as he picked through the thousands of forest sounds. Branches rustled, squirrels chattered. Somewhere, a duck attacked a goose. Closing his eyes, he honed in on a particular chirp.

“It’s that way!” he pointed. “Down the hill, close to the docks.”

They sprinted past rabbit burrows and hopped over fallen longs. A gnat flew into Jon’s teeth and he nearly tripped over his shoelaces.

“I can fly us there faster,” he said.

“We’ll scare the birds away.”

“No, we won’t. Besides, you’re _Robin_. You’re basically one of them.”

“If we agree to never speak of this to our peers, I give you full permission.”

“ _Duh_.” He grabbed Damian under the arms and lifted off.

From his vantage point, the reverse looked like a video game map. Lush pines covered the ground like moss on a rock. The campsite was behind them, a brown horseshoe of cabins surrounding the cafeteria, with the bonfire area jutting out like a nail; the meandering river ended in a rushing fall about a mile away. A crisp April breeze combed through Jon’s hair. He traced the bird call to where the river began: an overgrown wetland off the beaten trail.

The sound disappeared by the time they arrived at the water’s edge, and Damian was thoroughly unimpressed. 

“So much for extra credit.”

Jon scowled. “Pardon my French, but this would be a _heck_ of a lot easier if you weren’t a constant Debbie Downer.”

“ _Tt_ , it’s not _my_ fault I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with an _incompetent imbecile_.”

“You’re not even _trying_ to listen! This entire time you’ve been nothing but mean to everyone even though we just wanna have fun!”

“Maybe because my idea of fun is too sophisticated for your tiny chimp brain to understand.”

“You really it’s smart to talk that way to a guy who can drop you any second?” 

Damian scoffed. “Do it. I’d dare you, but I know you won’t follow through because you’re just like the rest of those simplistic, spineless cowards.”

Jon released his grip. 

Damian grabbed Jon’s shirt. 

They tore through the algal film. 

The murky depths sucked Jon in and a cloud of silt masked the sun. Bubbles escaped his nostrils. His arms flailed around until his fingers traced over Damian’s. 

He took hold. The water’s tug was fierce even against the Kryptonian, but he broke through the surface with Damian in tow, gasping. They pulled themselves up to the shoreline, coughing and shivering.

Jon whipped his head toward Damian. “This is all your fault!”

“How is this my fault?” Damian asked. “ _You_ were the one who dropped me.”

“You kept egging me on ‘cause you didn’t think I had a limit. But guess what? _Everyone_ has a limit, and I’ve had it up to here with you!” Jon wiped the mud off his skin and poured the dirty water out of his shoes. “Do you have _any_ idea how much trouble we’re gonna get in if we go back soaked in swamp water?”

“Fen.”

He paused. “What?”

“It’s a _fen_ , not a swamp,” Damian said. “Know your wetlands.”

Jon screamed and kicked the dirt. “You _always_ do this! You act like a know-it-all, yet you can’t do anything besides avoid the problem.” He picked a slimy algae string out of his hair and flicked it in Damian’s direction, missing. “Whatever, I’m done with you.”

He turned around and stomped away.

“Kent, wait.”

“What?”

Damian pointed to the wet sneakers. “You forgot something.”

“I hate you.”

Damian didn’t show up to the bonfire—not that it was unexpected. Jon hardly saw him in the cabin; he only stopped to say “your turn” after a lukewarm shower. 

He shoved his dirty clothes in a shopping bag and joined the rest of the pajama-clad preteens around a circular pit as wide as an armchair, with teepee-like sticks arranged just as high; he picked a seat on the farther end, and not just because of the sparks flying off the kindling. The staff lead them in a singalong, and, thankfully, the other kids sang loudly enough to mask Jon’s silence. When they passed around s’mores, he accepted it despite lacking an appetite.

His thumbnail ran down the graham cracker’s seam. He snapped it in half and pulled apart the gooey insides. 

Jon raised his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Of course,” said the teacher.

He slipped out back toward the dark cabins.

No lights were on. At first, Jon thought Damian was asleep, but a silhouette on the sloped roof soon proved otherwise. 

He flew up. “Can I sit here?”

Damian, with his head resting on his knees, shrugged (which might as well be an enthusiastic welcome for him).

“I got you something.” Jon offered the s’more half. “In case you’re hungry.”

Damian hesitantly accepted. The two sat in silence, nibbling their halves, staring at the paint speckle stars straight ahead on the horizon. The Big Dipper was at their eight o’clock; Orion at three. It was far too early in the season for crickets and cicadas, but Jon imagined where they’d sing from—tucked in tree branches, nestled among the quivering cattails. 

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” Damian caught Jon off-guard with the words. “And I’m sorry for turning this trip into an unpleasurable experience. I acted out of line.”

Jon brushed the crumbs off his pants. “I’m sorry for dropping you in a bog.”

“Still a fen.”

“Ruining the moment, D.” Chuckling softly, he scooted closer. “We were acting like a couple of big dummies.”

“Grayson told me I should be more open with people. He said… people here differ compared to where I’m from. And he’s not wrong. But…” Damian pursed his lips. “I do not understand how people find the wilderness enjoyable.”

“Yeah, having no Wi-Fi kinda stinks.” Jon tossed the last bite in his mouth.

Damian shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Not looking Jon in the eye, he took a shaky breath. Their knuckles brushed, and a small piece of Jon hoped it wasn’t accidental.

“When I was six years old,” Damian said, “they—” He didn’t need to say who. “—brought me to a remote wooded area for a combat session. The trainers were among the best, and they had been tasked to defeat me and leave me where I was in a wounded state. As it turned out, the _real_ task was whether I could navigate back by myself.”

“Dami…”

“I know my past does not excuse my behavior, but… I cannot _fathom_ how people voluntarily separate themselves from civilization and subsist on the bare minimum as a _hobby_.”

Jon mulled over how to respond. “You said—er, your brother told you—people are different here. Do you think it could, I dunno—” He gestured around. “—be the same for places?”

Damian chewed on his lip and glanced down at their hands, hovering atoms apart. Tentatively, he laced their fingers together. “I believe it is worth a try.”

The ride home was a quiet one. Most kids were too tired to do anything other than scroll through their devices or nap. Jon, however, with his hand secretly on top of Damian’s, was wide awake. How could he not be?

Damian squeezed gently. “Would you like to play that ‘I Spy’ game?”

Jon grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Okay, I spy something—”

“Phone.”

“You sure you don’t have mind-reading powers?”

“My turn,” said Damian. “I spy a half-alien who is not as annoying as I previously thought.”

Did Jon’s palm suddenly get sweatier? He opened his mouth, but his brain was empty. Damian smirked the same way he did when he beat Jon at sparring.

“How do you manage to win a game with no winners?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Damian yawned. 

Jon adjusted his shoulder, allowing Damian to lean against it. Matching smiles adorned their faces. He didn’t take Damian as someone who fell asleep on busses, but sometimes… places change. The teacher walking down the aisle didn’t seem to notice.

Waking Damian felt like a crime, but Jon had no choice as they pulled into the school parking lot. He spotted his dad and Damian’s on the sidewalk, the latter _definitely_ not hiding a surprise Batburger bag. 

“Dami, we’re home.”

“Five more minutes.”

Jon ran his fingers through Damian’s hair and, once he was sure no one was looking, planted a kiss along his hairline. 

Damian opened one eye. “Now I have an incentive _not_ to get up.”

“Nuh-uh. Only awake faces get the rest.”

As they deboarded and waited for the teachers to grab the luggage, Jon’s father asked, “So, how was camp? Did you boys have fun?”

“As a matter of fact, we did,” said Damian.

Bruce asked, “What did you guys do?”

“Oh, you know,” Jon said. “The usual.”


End file.
